Cogito ergo sum
by kurgaya
Summary: No pairings - T for quite a bit of swearing - "Oh," said Ichigo, gazing down at his walking, talking flaws lounging around on the floor. "And I'm stuck with him?"


**Notes: **This is one of those His Dark Materials crossovers where I've taken the ideal of daemons and added them into another universe – this type of story is very common in other fandoms (i.e. Sherlock, Merlin, etc.) and I've been itching it give it a shot with Bleach.

If you know what I'm talking about, then feel free to start reading. I will say, though, that I've changed parts of the HDM canon to suit my needs – e.g. the sex of the daemon isn't always the opposite of the person, birds aren't limited to witches (not that Bleach has any), and I had to play around a bit to fit the fact that the daemon is a representation of one's soul since shinigami already have zanpakutos.

If you didn't catch any of that, don't worry. Ichigo's going to be new to this whole daemon idea too, so all of your questions should be answered along the way :)

This is **gen**, but some of it's so pre-Ichigo/Tōshirō it _hurts_.

* * *

**Cogito ergo sum  
****(I think therefore I am)****  
**

* * *

Ichigo first met his daemon the morning he woke after the shinigami – Rukia, he corrected – had given her powers up to save him and his family. This was to be expected with becoming a shinigami, apparently, but since Ichigo never even heard of the strange, sword wielding supernatural beings until the night before, nobody had bothered to warn him. He knew there were a lot of things his 'new job' would consist of that he didn't yet know about, but he was prepared to approach them just as steadily as he would with anything else that proved to be a challenge. Despite Rukia's awful drawings, Ichigo held a firm believe that she'd be a good teacher - a tad violent, kind of unpredictable, but generally a pleasant one – but when he woke that morning to having his pen pot thrown across the room at him, he couldn't help but feel there was something _very big_ that she hadn't told him.

Or small, as had been the case, the multi-coloured parrot perched on his desk no larger than a loaf of bread.

Batting the biros and felt-tips away, Ichigo opened his mouth to yell at his father for bringing home wild animals when the parrot gave a flap of its wings, his homework twirling around the room. Ichigo scrambled up to rescue his work, and the bird peered down at him with bright, intelligent eyes. It looked like it had come straight out of a children's colouring book - feathers a shocking array of greens, oranges, yellows, and blues - and the fact that when it opened its beak and the words, "You lazy bugger!" dropped from its tongue only enhanced the make-believe and utterly irrational feel about the whole thing.

"What - ?" Ichigo began, and the parrot flew up with a cackling laugh, and when it dropped back down to the carpet it was a _tiger_, three foot high and easily the length of Ichigo's bed. It flicked his tail in his direction, as if testing the weight and feel of the limb, and then padded, rather clumsily for a cat, around the room in a circle. Ichigo flattened himself against his bed, discarding his homework in favour of his life, the need to keep his _own_ limbs tucked as far away as possible making him clamber awkwardly. He supposed if it came down to it, however, the extra foot between him and the beast wouldn't actually make that much of a difference when it decided to eat him.

"I'm sure you'd taste disgusting," said the bird-tiger-thing.

"Oh thanks," Ichigo dully replied, before he could think about the implications of their conversation. "What are you?"

The tiger flopped forward in the middle of the carpet, stretching across the room with a yawn. A pink tongue lolled out between razor sharp teeth, and Ichigo hoped he wasn't about to get his throat torn out for asking such an insulting question.

Apparently Rukia decided that it was time to step in, and her cupboard door slid open with such force that the other two occupants of the room practically jumped an inch or two out of their skins. "Warn a man next time, would you?" demanded the tiger, swishing his tail from side to side in irritation. The petite shinigami faltered in surprise, either by the question or the actual presence of the animal, Ichigo wasn't sure, but instead of screaming at Ichigo _for getting into such a stupid mess_ like he half expected, she cursed under her breath and let herself fall back into the cupboard with a hefty sigh.

So the shape-shifting animal was part of the package then.

"Care to explain?" he asked, shifting himself into a comfier position, two biros cluttering to the floor in the process. He waved his hand in the general direction of the tiger, though he knew that she wouldn't see his action.

"Not really," Rukia mumbled.

"Oh good," added the tiger fearlessly, his words half-hearted and expressing the thoughts running through Ichigo's head at that very moment. "Now we won't have to suffer your crappy drawings."

After cursing herself six ways to Sunday and blatantly ignoring Ichigo's desperation on the other side of the room, Rukia dug out her sketchpad and started to explain: every shinigami had a daemon. Ichigo thought it sounded disgusting cliché, but he learned that the animal represented a part of his soul, like his zanpakuto would (if he ever learned its name). Having used the example of yin-yang to smooth things over, Rukia explained that a zanpakuto was yang (the white side) and reflected one's hopes and goals; desires and needs; love, happiness, and prosperity. The daemon, on the other hand, was yin (the black side), and signified jealously, cruelty, and hate. In a nutshell, she said, it was part of your soul that you didn't like.

"Oh," said Ichigo, gazing down at his walking, talking _flaws _lounging around on the floor. "And I'm stuck with him?"

"Sorry," Rukia said, actually sounding humble and honest. "It'll be easier for you if he settles into a small form, you can hide him then, but if he settles into, say –" She nodded down at the daemon. "– a tiger, then he's going to get noticed by people. That's the way it is, unfortunately."

"Fuck that," breathed the teenager. What would he do if his hateful, 'dark' side was on display like that, all of the time? How would he be able to do anything with his daemon there, acting as a constant reminder that he wasn't always the generous man he thought he was?

Shooting him a sympathetic look, Rukia went on to explain that his daemon would settle in one, permanent form if and when he learned the name of his zanpakuto. Until then the bird-tiger-whatever would shift between species as much as it wanted, depending on its own mood and Ichigo's. It would forever be uncomfortable in one form for too long, unless Ichigo developed a strong enough bond with his blade. Honestly, Ichigo didn't think that not learning his zanpakuto's name sounded like that bad of a solution – at least he wouldn't be permanently stuck with something like an elephant – but something nagged in the back of his mind at that thought.

_Was that what he really wanted?_

He sighed down at the tiger. It gazed at him lazily, tongue flopped out.

Ichigo tried to quell the surge of disappointment.

* * *

Over the next few weeks his daemon tested the limits of its shape-shifting abilities.

Its personal favourite seemed to be the tiger, though anything with a razor set of jaws was the norm. Birds and smaller animals appeared occasionally but didn't stick around for long, though Ichigo did ask for it to keep the form of something domestic during school. He doubted that anybody would be able to see the daemon, but he didn't want to risk it. Explaining why there was a lion curled up by his desk was not a conversation he wanted to get into.

It was also necessary to remain in pocket-sized forms while in the presence of his family, because as much as Karin tried to deny the existence of ghosts, she and Ichigo both knew that she could see them just as clearly as he could. His daemon had complained at having to hide in Ichigo's pocket (they learned soon enough that they couldn't be too far apart at any given time lest they wanted their entire bodies to shiver with pain – the distance between Ichigo's room and the family bathroom was about as far as they could stretch) and spent a whole evening in the form of a tarantula in protest. This wouldn't have been a big problem for most people, but Ichigo wasn't most people and his arachnophobia had kicked in with a vengeance: Isshin had never before looked so tempted to drag his son down to the clinic and force countless medicines down his throat. Whenever his daemon so much as squirmed Ichigo'd whimpered pathetically, and seeing a hairy leg or two poke out of the fabric every so often had drained his face of colour.

He'd gotten his revenge the next day by tricking his daemon to turn into a goldfish at dinner. That hadn't gone very well, but he'd gotten a good kick out of the terrified, curse-filled ramble that had invaded his thoughts, so he thought it was worth it.

For the most part, they got along. Ichigo put up with his daemon's pessimistic, insensitive attitude and vulgar, obnoxious vocabulary, and in turn, the daemon put up with Ichigo snapping at him every other day. They had spats occasionally, but Rukia had warned them that their personalities would clash – nobody liked a physical representation of their worst aspects after all – so Ichigo didn't worry too much about it. It felt good, in a way, having someone (even if that someone was a miserable sod who spent most of the day lounging around as a wild cat) who understood him enough to let him vent. So he didn't really mind his daemon's presence. He just wondered what it revealed to Rukia about him.

"Where's your daemon then?" Ichigo asked one night, momentarily looking up from his homework to where the petite ex-shinigami was reading manga on his bed. "I haven't seen it – is it really small?"

Rukia's lavender eyes fluttered over to lock with his chocolate brown; just for a moment, and then she returned her attention to Death Note. (Ichigo didn't like that particular manga, but Rukia had picked it up in a store and asked (demanded) he buy her some of the volumes to keep her from getting bored). "Her name's Hera," she said eventually, and Ichigo struggled to interpret the emotion in her expression. "She's a king penguin, and it's just as well she disappeared along with my powers really, because I don't know how well she would have coped to sleeping in a cupboard all night."

"Hey!" Ichigo scowled. "You chose to sleep there!"

"Well I didn't exactly want to sleep with your sisters!"

"Why not? What's wrong with my sisters?"

"Oh god," said the jaguar on the carpet, rolling onto his back with an exaggerated groan of defeat. He placed one paw on his chest, spread the other out towards Ichigo's bed, and tilted his head back so that he was staring up at the bedroom door with a blank expression. "Someone save me from these _morons_."

Ichigo spared a thought to appreciate how that summed up his daemon quite well before grabbing a biro and throwing it at the cat. It bounced off its nose and tumbled under the bed; the daemon watched it lazily, having not even flinched. The teenager sighed and returned to his homework. There was no winning for him, really.

* * *

His daemon and mod soul really didn't get along.

It wasn't that they were too different, but more that they were too alike. Kon was perverted and brash, a bit idiotic but he seemed to care, and the daemon was rude, sly, and didn't watch what came out of its mouth.

(Kon wanted to be a lion: the daemon _really was_ a lion).

They were frustrating to deal with. Rukia suggested locking them in a cupboard until they got on, or kicking one of them out of the house, but since neither of those ideas was very practical, they had to settle with duct tape and the threat of Yuzu's sewing basket.

Kon was terrified of Yuzu.

So was Ichigo's daemon, so it worked well.

* * *

Renji Abarai wasn't frightening (despite the way he handled his blade, the manic grin he wore, and the fact that he was trying to kill Rukia).

His gigantic grey wolf daemon was though.

It had started to snarl and spit the moment Ichigo had arrived, blocking the other shinigami's zanpakuto, and had only grown fiercer the longer Ichigo stayed alive. It didn't attack, however, but Ichigo kept an eye on it hiding – no, it wasn't hiding, it didn't need to – in the shadows as he fought with the red haired man. The more Abarai got worked up, the bigger the wolf daemon seemed to get, and Ichigo could honestly say he was more worried about getting his throat torn out by it than losing a limb to a blade.

His own daemon, currently a bear and trying to look threatening, was standing guard by Rukia. Ichigo knew that his daemon would protect Rukia without needing to be asked, but he wasn't sure how long for – he had a feeling the bear would prioritise Ichigo's life over any others, and the teenager wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

He had a suspicion he might find out, however, when Abarai's zanpakuto changed shape (_is that what a release looks like_, he wondered briefly, gaping at the jagged, teeth-like blade) and he jumped up, roaring. Ichigo brought his blade up to try and protect himself from the attack, but there was little he could do as his foe's blade stretched, clawing through his shoulder with ease. The bear daemon made a distressed noise and turned, lunging at Abarai as a lion, but the grey wolf had anticipated the move and leapt in the way; the two daemons tumbled together down the street, claws and teeth ripping at each other.

Ichigo shouted in desperation, blood pouring down his chest, and his opponent laughed. "Don't hold back Cerberus! Feel free to tear the rookie apart!"

_Cerberus_, Ichigo's mind rang, horror for his daemon forcing him to his feet, fear making him lift his blade. _Cerberus, Cerberus, Cerberus_ –

"Oh?" said Abarai, cocking his head. "Where do you think you're going?"

The wolf daemon growled, jaw locked around the lion's neck; Ichigo's daemon whimpered and thrashed, shaggy mane soaked with blood, and with his heart pounding in his ears, Ichigo dragged his blade over, eyes blurring with the need to help, to do _something_ –

– _Cerberus, Cerberus, Cerberus_ –

Something moved in the corner of his vision, but by the time he realised he was lying on the ground. His sword was in two beside him, his hand wouldn't move to grab it, and the grey wolf daemon padded over silently, drops of hot lion blood dripping down onto Ichigo's cheek.

_Where was Rukia? Where was –?_

"Come, Abarai," said a new voice, deep and smooth. "We're done here. Let him die quietly."

A black butterfly flew past. Ichigo vaguely remembered thinking 'that can't possibly be someone's daemon' before thinking nothing at all.

* * *

**It is nice to make your acquaintance, Ichigo**, rumbled Zangetsu, and Ichigo saw a flicker of the sideways skyscrapers and the vast, blue sky behind his eyes before smiling, tightening his grip around the white, bandaged hilt of his blade. As the dust of Urahara's underground training arena settled, Ichigo heaved himself up, dragging his gaze along the large black and white zanpakuto in his grasp. It didn't appear to be the most practical of weapons, but it was his, and he realised that he didn't care.

_You too, old man_, he shot back, balancing the blade carefully. It wasn't as heavy as he'd expected. _Thanks for waiting_.

::I hate to break up the lovely gathering:: his daemon interrupted, blasting his thoughts into their conversation. ::But we have got someone's arse to kick::

Zangetsu made a quiet sound of amusement, and Ichigo rolled his eyes, turning to where he'd told the rottweiler to stay put. (Ever since Rukia had been abducted his daemon had refused to shift from big, predacious animals). Except now it wasn't a muscular tonne of beast, but a tall, beady eyed buck, complete with a magnificent set of antlers. It trotted across the dirt towards him, swishing its head from side to side.

"Oh god," Ichigo breathed, eyes wide. He'd almost forgotten that with learning Zangetsu's name his daemon would finally settle. It appears that his fear of getting a large, bulky daemon was well-founded. "Well – it – err – it suits you."

It did. His daemon was a big-headed, cocky arsehole, and that was undoubtedly why its antlers were so huge.

"Bitch," said the daemon as a way of thanks, coming to a stop beside Ichigo. It had a glossy, hazelnut coat of fur, with a fluffy white underbelly and snowy ring around its square nose. The tips of its twitching, almost pointed ears were black, and there was a flat white tail to finish the look. "Any idea what I am?"

"A prick?" Ichigo muttered under his breath, and he flinched when Urahara laid a hand on his shoulder, having completely forgotten about the other occupants of the room.

"That's a white-tailed deer, I believe," said the blonde man, his hat shadowing his smile. "Not the most original name, no, but easy enough to see why."

He spoke to Ichigo instead of the buck, a social norm that people found difficult to break. It was considered incredibly rude to talk to another's daemon without their permission, and to touch one (even accidentally) was reserved for only the closest of people – even some lovers were never entitled to pet or stroke their partner's daemon.

"A deer," groaned Ichigo, huffing out a breath. "Could be worse, I suppose. You got a name then? Or am I going to have to keep calling you 'hey idiot'?"

Names were something else a daemon only acquired when their partners learned the name of the zanpakuto. The thought of all the nameless daemons running around loyally after their shinigami made Ichigo's gut twinge.

"Cassandra," said the buck thoughtfully, testing the name. "That sounds right."

Ichigo blinked. He wasn't an expert on the animal kingdom, but he was fairly sure his daemon's form was male, not female. He glanced over at Urahara for help, but the man was still smiling slyly, on hand gently rubbing the grey-brown feathers of his daemon. Otohime was a Japanese waxwing, a small, chubby bird with beautiful markings on the end of her wings. She was quieter than Urahara, but in the few times Ichigo had heard her speak, he could tell that she was much more straightforward than her counterpart.

However neither of them offered any assistance, so he turned back to his own daemon. "Aren't you a –?"

"You're the one called '_Ichigo_'," interrupted Cassandra, hooves digging into the hard ground. "Don't talk to me about girly names, _sunshine_."

Ichigo wisely shut his mouth, realising there was very little he could say in response to that. (Urahara coughed nervously behind him). 'Sunshine' was a nickname that his daemon only called him when he was irritated.

"I think it'd be best if you called me 'Cas'," finished the buck, lifting his head in defiance.

The shinigami shrugged. He could live with that.

* * *

Ichigo blinked, aware of a throbbing pain in his stomach as he roused. He was lying on his back underneath a thick blanket, his torso tightly wrapped with bandages. Turning his head with a groan, he spied Zangetsu lying on his left, the blade clean of blood and grim, and Cas curled up on his right, head ducked in sleep. Relieved, Ichigo reached out towards his daemon and brushed his trembling fingers against the rough fur.

_Why was he not dead?_

Cas lifted his head blearily, waking in much the same fashion as Ichigo. When he saw that the shinigami was awake he huffed and settled back down, but Ichigo could feel a hum of happiness through their bond.

"You're such a fucking idiot you know, sunshine," grumbled the daemon. "That guy was a monster."

Kenpachi Zaraki. Ichigo remembered now. They'd been fighting. (::Getting massacred, you mean:: Cas added unhelpfully). He must have lost consciousness at some point, so how he'd managed to get into a cave and patched up was beyond him. There didn't appear to be anybody else around, though his search of their surroundings only included what he could see from his exhausted position on his back. Hopefully whoever had helped him was an ally (you never know), and Ichigo pushed himself up into a sitting position to try and work out who he owned a debt to.

"Ah," said a familiar voice, and a black cat slowly made its way over. "You're finally up."

"Yoruichi-san!" Ichigo cried, and Cas huffed once again. The cat came and sat by Ichigo's zanpakuto, running a calculating gaze over him. "Did you save us? Thanks."

"There's no way in hell you would have managed to carry me, let alone Ichigo," Cas informed the cat, tail twitching. "What did you do?"

Yoruichi turned expectantly to Ichigo, surprising the shinigami yet again at his knowledge of daemon customs. After all, he was a cat, and cats didn't have daemons of their own. Ichigo shrugged at the silent question; he didn't really care if people spoke to Cas.

"Well," said Yoruichi. "I used this little contraption –" He nudged a long, strange looking device that appeared to have a bird's claw on the end. "It's a rare, valuable artefact, so you should be grateful. I carried you both in my true form, of course. That made things much easier."

Ichigo stared, and even Cas had nothing to say to that. Yoruichi sighed, getting to his feet, and stepped back a few paces. There, he turned back to Ichigo with a dark glare and said, "I guess I can't hide it from you for any longer…"

"Oh holy bloody shit," gaped the deer daemon, as the cat morphed into a slim and extraordinarily beautiful, naked woman. "Fuck me _sideways_."

"But your voice," Ichigo gasped, eyes blown at the sight, his mouth dropping open. "Your voice – what – I don't – PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

Yoruichi chuckled and winked at him as he covered his face with his hands. "Such a prude," she whined, obediently slipping into some clothes.

"Aww," Cas grumbled, curling back up now that the show was over. "You're a spoilsport, Ichigo."

Ichigo growled and clamped his arms around the buck's head, shutting his jaws together to keep him quiet. Or, he would have done, had the wound in his stomach not decided to burst open at that moment and seep blood right through his bandages. He yelled, doubling over himself, and Yoruichi grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and forced him to lie down.

"Stop moving you idiot!" she snapped. "You need to heal! Your injuries almost –"

A heavy sensation flooded the room; a reiatsu so thick that Ichigo and Yoruichi both froze.

"_Kuchiki_," Cas spat, the word more vile than anything he'd muttered before. Ichigo bolted out of Yoruichi's hold, snatching the foreign object – if she had used it to carry them down here, then he'd be able to use it too.

The woman realised a second too late what he was planning to do. "Wait!" she yelled, twisting like a feline to her feet. A giant bat wing erupted from the claw-like object as the rope coiled around it unwound and clung onto Ichigo's arm, squeezing it tightly. He let out a noise of surprise that was drowned out by Yoruichi's call: "You can't –!"

Ichigo and his daemon arrived at the Senzaikyu, where Rukia was being held, just a few minutes later. Rukia and Hanatarō were standing on a bridge with the elder Kuchiki and a white haired man that Ichigo had never seen before. Recognising him as being a taicho, the teenager gritted his teeth, hoping he wouldn't be somebody else they'd have to fight through. The final person on the bridge was Ganju, but he was covered in blood, immobile, and Hanatarō was crying: Ichigo didn't want to think about the implications of that.

(If Ganju had a daemon, verifying if he was dead or alive would have been so much easier).

They landed next to Rukia. She gasped his name softly. Ichigo went to check on Hanatarō, stilling Cas with a wave of his hand. The Fourth Division boy sobbed even harder at his approach, but both he and his squealing red panda daemon didn't appear to be harmed, so Ichigo tried to smile.

::Ichigo, the white haired dude is staring at you like you're his long lost son or something::

He'd seen. Hopefully that meant the taicho would be less inclined to attack, but there were more important things to worry about. Namely, the other taicho that was watching him carefully from some ten metres away, rigid and calm. Byakuya's eyes were narrowed. His clouded leopard daemon was prowling around his legs in a circle.

It wasn't as threatening as Renji's grey wolf, and Ichigo quirked a grin at that thought.

::He looks pissed::

_Doesn't he just?_

::Ha! Well he can kiss my furry ass because we're not going to be beaten this time!::

Yoruichi turned up and whisked them away before they got the chance to do anything.

Ichigo was mad, but the prospect of gaining bankai smoothed over his frustration easily enough.

He had to save Rukia, and if he needed bankai to do it, he was going to get bankai to do it.

* * *

Cas was there when everything was over, and the buck scoffed and grumbled about how he couldn't be anywhere else. Once Ichigo had blinked into awareness – he was yet again in a room he didn't recognise, but he could feel the remnants of Inoue's healing ability, so he didn't worry – his daemon decided taking pity on him was a bad idea and started to shout. (Honestly, Ichigo was surprised it had taken him that long).

"You stupid plonker, what did I say? I told you that fighting Aizen was going to get you killed, and what happens? You almost fucking get cut in half! If I hadn't been there you would be six foot under and where would I be? Poof! Gone! Do you think I want that? How selfish can you get you prick? I should –!"

Ichigo rested a hand against the buck's wet nose and smiled sheepishly. Cas shook his head, knocking him away, antlers almost catching Ichigo's arm, and made a loud snorting noise. "Is that the thanks I get for saving your fucking neck?"

Continuing to smile, Ichigo closed his eyes and let himself drown in the warm feeling of his daemon by his side and his zanpakuto's quiet presence in the back of his head. "Thanks Cas."

The buck kicked the bedpost, and then sulked back down between Ichigo and the door, as if guarding him but pretending that he wasn't. "Moron."

When Ichigo woke the next time, there was a dark haired woman in the room checking his vitals. She smiled down at him when she saw that he was awake, and it took him a moment to register the white fabric around her shoulders that identified her as a taicho. Since Cas was still snoozing beside the bed, Zangetsu projected a wave of tranquillity to ease Ichigo's raging heart, reassuring him that he wasn't in any danger.

"My apologies for alarming you," said the woman, her voice giving him bizarre form of security, like being unaware that the safety of the sea actually held dozens of bloodthirsty sharks, ready to eat you once you jumped in. "I am Retsu Unohana, taicho of the Fourth Division. You have been under my care for a few days now, Kurosaki-san."

"Oh," he replied lamely, letting his eyes follow her around the room. A swan daemon waddled along behind her, looking perfectly harmless. From his experience with swans, Ichigo knew it wasn't. "Thanks, I guess. Have I missed much?"

The taicho presented the clipboard in her possession to her daemon; the swan carefully took it in its beak and toddled around the bed. She thanked it, and then turned to Ichigo. "You've had a few visitors," she explained. "Your human friends, Abarai-fukutaicho, and Kuchiki-san being the most frequent. A few of the other taicho and fukutaicho dropped in to pay their regards, but left after realising you were still asleep."

Ichigo had a vision of Byakuya watching him while he slept and shivered.

"How's Soul Society?" he asked. "That Aizen fellow was one of your taicho, wasn't he?"

Unohana hardly paused before replying, "Yes. The Ninth, Fifth, and Third Divisions are focusing on getting back onto their feet while the other divisions are repairing the damage left by both Aizen and your group. We will recover, as we always do, so you do not need to concern yourself."

Ichigo winced, laughing nervously. He hadn't spared any thought for the aftermath of his battles – he'd never believed for a second that he may be on friendly terms with Soul Society after his invasion. "Cool," he said, for the lack of anything else to say. "When can I leave?"

"Now, if you so wish," replied the healer. Her daemon stretched and flapped its wings once; Ichigo's hair tousled in the gust of wind it created, and he laughed softly. "You are free to explore Soul Society, though please bear in mind that if you choose to remain in the Fourth Division, I have other patients that will need the quiet."

He nodded, silently promising to be on his best behaviour.

"She's scary," said Cas, once the taicho and daemon had left the room. Ichigo, who hadn't realised that Cas was awake, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, prompting the deer daemon to stand with him.

"Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her," he agreed. He stretched and shook out his limbs, groaning at the stiff feeling of being in one position for too long. "Come on, let's go look around… You wouldn't happen to have a great sense of direction to make up for the lack of mine, would you?"

Apparently not, they realised ten minutes later. The Fourth Division seemed to be structured like a maze, and to make matters worse there weren't any signs around to point them in the right direction. Ichigo personally thought this was rather unpractical since the Fourth Division served as a hospital, but he supposed all of the officers knew their way around, and all of the patients that tried to find the exit probably weren't meant to be leaving anyway.

This didn't bode well for Ichigo and Cas, who'd resorted to opening random doors in the hope that they led either outside or somewhere habited. For a hospital, the place was startling empty. (Which maybe wasn't a bad thing, he mused in retrospect). However, just as Ichigo was about to open one particularly unobtrusive door, that a voice called out from behind him; Cas mentally cheered at the approaching civilisation.

"Wait, please don't go in there!"

Ichigo retracted his hand and swivelled. A young woman was jogging towards them, her (unbelievable) breasts bouncing awkwardly with each step. Cas made an appreciative noise; Ichigo smacked him on the nose and tried to focus on the newcomer's wavy strawberry blonde hair instead.

"Sorry," said the woman, bright blues eyes clearly relieved that he'd listened. "You can go in – just, carefully."

"I take it this isn't the way out then?"

She startled, her gaze reassessing him. "Oh no," she said cheerfully. "That's back the way I came. This is my taicho's – oh! Are you Ichigo Kurosaki?"

He nodded and bowed quickly in greeting. She bowed back, still smiling, and introduced herself. "I'm Rangiku Matsumoto, Tenth Division fukutaicho. It's nice to meet you. I don't think you met taicho or I while you were running around – then again, we were in Central Forty-Six at the time and…"

She trailed off, suddenly looking blue. Ichigo bit his lip; the expression didn't suit her. "Are… you here visiting your taicho now, then?" he asked, trying to pick up the conversation again. He gestured to the door they were standing beside. "Was he… hurt?"

::That topic change didn't work very well, did it?:: Cas snorted mentally.

_Shut up_, Ichigo hissed back.

"Oh, yes!" said Rangiku, reaching for the door, thinking better of it, and then sliding it open anyway. "He might be awake actually," she said, dropping the volume of her voice. "You can come in and say hello if you want." She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him inside, not actually giving him much of a choice. A petite lynx daemon slipped in after them, and Ichigo almost jumped a foot in the air at the sight of it – he hadn't even realised it was there.

Rangiku made her way across the room while Cas butted the door shut with his nose. The lynx went and curled up under the single bed in the room, hiding its head under its paws, silent and solitary. In the bed was one of the few taicho that Ichigo had yet to encounter, and if Rangiku hadn't told him who to expect, he wouldn't have believed for a second that the tiny, ghostly boy sleeping under the sheets was one of the strongest shinigami in Soul Society. His astonishment must have shown, for the fukutaicho's face softened as she pulled up two chairs, her warm features settling into an expression so easily that Ichigo was sure she'd had to dispel people's disbelief many times before.

"This is Tōshirō Hitsugaya," she informed. "He doesn't bite, honestly."

Ichigo walked closer and sat in one of the wooden chairs. Cas trotted over, and the young taicho flinched at the sound, the heart monitor jumping. The buck mumbled something sheepishly. They watched Rangiku fuss around for a couple of minutes, feeling like they were intruding when she ruffled her taicho's hair and checked his wrist for a pulse. She didn't seem to mind their presence, but Ichigo politely ignored her actions and looked around the room instead, noting the drizzly décor and the emptiness between the bed and the door. For a place of healing, it didn't exactly encourage good-health, he thought darkly.

It was only when he returned his attention to the slumbering taicho, that he realised there was something else missing from the scene.

"Where's his daemon?" he asked, his voice containing a note of panic. "They're not… _separated_, are they?"

Intercision, the cutting away of a daemon from a person, was more commonly known as 'separation'. The process was said to be horrific for both members, and was thus only reserved as a most extreme punishment. The only exception to this was if a shinigami had an incredibly impractical daemon – i.e. a whale or other water-dweller – and wouldn't be able to go about their daily life while trying to remain in a close proximity to their daemon. In such cases where intercision was necessary, all attempts were made to try and make the process as painless as possible. Ichigo had nightmares for a week afterward Yoruichi told him about it, his dreams plagued with images of somebody pulling him and Cas apart, dropping the guillotine between them and severing their bond forever. Necessary or not, it wasn't something he ever wanted to experience, even if his daemon was a pain in the arse most of the time; he didn't deserve that. Nobody deserved that.

"No!" cried Rangiku, jumping when she realised how loud she was being. She slumped back into her seat, shaking her head in relief as if Ichigo had just physically tried (and failed) to separate Tōshirō and his daemon. "Oh god no. Taicho would – he'd rather die. His daemon is just – um – _oh_ –"

Whatever she had been about to say was cut off as Tōshirō's daemon finally made its appearance, it's small, delicate silver head sliding out from underneath the taicho's yukata. Cas startled at the sight of the snake, and Ichigo's hand shot out automatically to sooth him. The snake daemon flicked its black tongue a few times, tasting the air, and turned between the two shinigami on either side of the bed. If Ichigo had to estimate the length of the daemon from the amount of it he could see, he'd guess somewhere between a metre and a half and two metres: where that amount of snake was hiding was beyond him.

"Matsumoto-san," greeted the daemon gently, voice polite and markedly female. "Lyra-san."

Shocked at the fact that the daemon was talking to somebody other than her partner on her own accord, Ichigo almost missed the quiet response from the daemon under the bed. He didn't hear what the lynx (Lyra, he guessed) said, but that was probably because he'd completely forgotten it was even there.

"Kurosaki-san," the snake went on. "And…?"

"Cassandra," muttered the deer daemon. "Cas – I mean Cas."

Ichigo stared at him. Stuttering? No swearing? Giving his full name? What was wrong with his daemon?

Tōshirō's daemon laughed quietly at Cas's embarrassment and laid her head down on top of her partner's stomach. Her eyes were dusky and intelligent, her tongue and inner-mouth a pitch, endless black. Ichigo wondered absentmindedly if she was venomous, and what that said about the unconscious taicho.

"A pleasure to meet you," said the snake daemon politely, and Ichigo pondered what _that_ said about the taicho too. His 'dark side' was lovely; was the boy a selfish, rotten brat most of the time? Ichigo certainly hoped not. "I'm Guinevere."

"Hi," said Ichigo, thinking he might as well answer. "I know Rangiku-san said that Tōshirō doesn't bite, but do you?"

Rangiku laughed. "Occasionally," said the snake with a mirthful tone. "I've been known to have quite a temper if the situation calls for it."

"Oh okay," said Ichigo lightly. "Don't want to get on the wrong side of you either, then. You women are scary."

Guinevere looked quite impressed, actually. "Ah," she said, flicking her tongue towards him. "I imagine you've met Unohana-taicho then?"

"Yeah," said Rangiku, giving him a pointed look. "She's not someone you'd want to mess with. Even taicho's scared of her."

"He the resilient type then?" Ichigo asked. Honestly, the taicho didn't look it, struggling for breath in the bed between them. He looked like a single gust of wind would break him in two, and that thought made Ichigo's gut twinge painfully.

::That's your protective big brother side talking:: Cas informed him with a snort.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. _Found your tongue again then?_

Cas would've kicked Ichigo's chair if it wouldn't have made a loud noise – he didn't want to wake the sleeping taicho (or get on the wrong side of the sleek snake daemon). ::Piss off sunshine::

"It takes a lot to knock taicho down," replied the fukutaicho firmly. Ichigo thought that Guinevere looked doubtful at those words, but he wisely didn't say anything about what he'd seen. "He'll be up and about soon – I'm sure he'll be happy to properly meet you."

Ichigo smiled and used that opportunity to leave. As much as he wouldn't have minded talking with Rangiku and Guinevere all day, there were things to do and people to find. Rangiku seemed to understand, not questioning his excuse, and they bid each other goodbye for the time being. Guinevere slipped back under Tōshirō's yukata as he left – apparently she'd just popped out to welcome him.

Ichigo tried not to think of the implications of that.

* * *

He found Renji in the Eleventh Division making a lot of noise with Ikkaku and a man Ichigo quickly learned was called Yumichika. Renji's wolf daemon, Cerberus, didn't look too pleased to see them, but the African wild dog and the peacock greeted Cas pleasantly enough. Ichigo had no trouble in guessing which daemon belonged to which man.

"You wanna join, Ichigo?" Renji asked, waving a wooden practice sword in his direction. Ichigo was standing beside Yumichika against one wall, watching the other two officers spar in the middle of the training room. Bar them, there was nobody else around, though a head or two did peak in every so often to see what was going on.

"Sure," said Ichigo, removing his zanpakuto and untying his kosode to reveal the skin-tight white shitagi underneath. He was still wearing bandages beneath that, but his injuries didn't ache so much anymore.

::They will in a moment:: laughed Cas.

**Don't push yourself**, added Zangetsu. Ichigo nodded, swearing he'd be cautious; his zanpakuto didn't speak up often, but when he did Ichigo resigned himself to listening carefully. Zangetsu's advice was well thought out, after all.

He spared for two hours or so, stopping at the end of every match to take a breather. Yumichika stepped in to replace him once, executing a fair amount of skill for someone who seemed to hate fighting so much, but Ikkaku and Renji kept pulling him back to spar some more. Eventually he had to call it a day, but with his blood pumping and his forehead covered in a layer of sweat, Ichigo thought it was time well spent.

"They usually go drinking afterwards," said Yumichika, handing him a towel. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you tagged along."

"Nah, I'm alright," said Ichigo, burying his face in the soft fabric and groaning. "And anyway, I'm underage."

"Go for it," Cas whined, butting him with his antlers. "Nobody needs to know."

Ichigo dropped the towel on top of his daemon's head. "No."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Cas replied, shaking it off. It snagged in his antlers and hung across one eye limply, making him a sorry sight.

Ichigo laughed and pulled it free. "With you apparently."

They managed to leave the Eleventh Division relatively unscathed. Wondering where Chad, Inoue, and Ishida had gotten to, Ichigo decided to just see where his feet took him, Cas wandering along behind him. Now that Soul Society wasn't hostile territory he took the time to appreciate his surroundings. The place was a maze stuck in the Feudal Period of his History class. Ichigo quite liked his shihakusho (it might be weighted and sometimes difficult to move in but it was so _awesome_), yet everything else was a somewhat unwelcome blast from the past. It was challenging to get used to, and just when he thought he might be getting the hand of it all, he'd walk into a room and see a _light bulb_ or a _computer_. While it was great to see them, they didn't exactly make his perception of this extraordinary world any clearer.

The Seireitei was also a zoo. Since daemons only settled once their shinigami learned the name of their zanpakuto, most of the daemons that Ichigo walked past shifted to their hearts' content. There were hundreds, if not _thousands_, of unseated, lower ranked shinigami, and for every shinigami there was a daemon tagging along with them. Sometimes they were so small that Ichigo couldn't see them from a distance (or even up close!), but other times they were lions or bears: he saw a lot of dogs and other animals in the canine family, but occasionally he was amazed by a falcon or a giraffe. There were some species that he'd never seen before so Ichigo took his time to marvel at the exotic display; it was like the world's best Biology class.

They stopped briefly outside of the Twelfth Division, Cas complaining that he was hungry and Ichigo's thoughts on Urahara. He still couldn't imagine the eccentric shop keeper as the previous taicho of this scientific division. There was just something about his image that didn't quite fit the role – maybe it was the hair, or Otohime, his Japanese waxwing daemon. She was too quiet and secretive to be the daemon of a research taicho; unless, of course, she was actually a maniac who liked feasting on disaster and failed experiments, and Ichigo cringed.

Somehow he felt like he'd hit a little too close to the depths of Urahara's personality with that thought.

"Can we go eat now?" Cas probed, clipping the ground a few times to break him from his musing.

Ichigo rolled his eyes but turned away from the Twelfth. "Sure. There must be some restaurants or bars around here somewhere…"

A decent looking bar appeared on their way to the Thirteenth Division. Cas stuck his head in through the door first, judging the place for himself, the tug on their bond encouraging Ichigo to follow him in. The interior seemed to be based on bars Ichigo had seen in the human world, which was a nice change, so he felt more comfortable than he probably should surrounded by strangers, looking for a place to sit. It was quite dark inside, however, so he nearly missed the two taichos in one of the booths in the far corner. They noticed him, though, and called him over welcomingly. One Ichigo had only seen briefly – he wore a flowery kimono over his shihakusho and had long, wavy brown hair. The other, with the striking white hair, he had encountered a few times, but they'd never spoken. (Were he and Tōshirō related?)

"Kurosaki-kun," beamed the latter, patting the seat beside him. The seat beside the flowery man was taken by what appeared to be a royal blue parrot and an otter. "Join us?"

Ichigo slipped into the seat, trying not to feel awkward.

::No seat for me?:: Cas grumbled dejectedly, and Ichigo ignored him.

"I'm not sure we've ever introduced ourselves," said the white haired man. "I'm Jushiro Ukitake, taicho of the Thirteenth Division. My daemon's the North American river otter – Abraxas, say hello."

The otter levelled Ichigo with a cold, calculating look and said nothing. Ukitake sighed heavily but seemed to have expected such behaviour.

"My name's Shunsui Kyoraku," said the other man, picking up the abrupt end of the conversation. "I'm the Eighth Division taicho. This is Atlas, he's a hyacinth macaw and isn't very talkative either, so you won't be getting much conversation out of either of our daemons unfortunately."

The macaw grumbled something and ruffled his feathers. Ichigo figured he might get along with Cas well enough.

"Well, you know who I am," he said, shrugging lightly. "But this is Cas. He swears a lot, just in case that offends you or something. Pleased to meet you, Kyoraku-san, Ukitake-san. Thank you for your help on the Sokyoku Hill."

He was pretty sure the fiery chicken would have killed him if they hadn't intervened. And Rukia too, which would have defeated the whole purpose of the rescue mission: Ichigo couldn't imagine it would look very good in the history books if he got both himself and the person he was supposed to be helping killed in an act of pure, defiant stupidity. Nobody had really explained it to him, but he was fairly certain that if he died in his shinigami form there would be no second chances.

Kyoraku laughed, as if privy to Ichigo's thoughts, tilting his saucer of sake in greeting. "You're welcome, Kurosaki-san. I wish there could've been more we could've done."

His blue macaw daemon made a strange motion with his head at that, bobbing it up and down, side to side. Ichigo had no idea what it meant, but Cas laughed loudly in his ear.

"It's alright," Ichigo dismissed. "Hey, is there anything to eat here? I'm starved."

Ukitake handed him a menu and told him that he'd have to go over to the bar to order. Kyoraku warned him not to eat the curry. "Oh," Cas whined, nudging Ichigo's head and nipping his ear. It would have been an affectionate action if it had been anyone else. "I like curry. Yuzu makes the best chicken korma."

Ichigo had become rather brilliant at sneaking food into his pockets as of late.

"Yuzu?" Ukitake voiced, smiling around his drink. "Is that a human friend of yours?"

He seemed pleasantly interested, so Ichigo saw no harm in mentioning his family. "She's my little sister – one of them, anyway. She loves cooking."

The two taicho looked surprised. Ichigo had a suspicion that there was something he was missing. "You have sisters?" Ukitake went on. "Are they spiritually aware?"

The teenager frowned a little bit. He wondered how his family were coping with Kon. "Yuzu's not – or, well, she is, but everything's blurry to her. Karin can probably see ghosts just as well as I can. My dad's completely oblivious – he knows we can see them, but he's even worse at it than Yuzu."

He quickly excused himself to go and order something: having food meant he'd be stuck talking to them for a while, but hopefully the blunt break would indicate that he wasn't too pleased with how the conversation was going.

::He still looks at you like you're his son:: Cas hummed. ::It's bloody freaky – maybe you should tell him to lay off::

_He's not doing any harm_, Ichigo thought back, asking for a bottle of water while he was at the bar. He didn't know if Cas even needed to eat and drink, but his daemon had always appreciated it. Sentiment, maybe, or perhaps Cas just liked being included during meals.

::Still, I don't like it::

Ichigo thanked the bartender for the drink and slowly wandered back to the table. _You don't like a lot of things._

Cas poked him in the side with an antler. ::Prick::

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Kyoraku and Ukitake's company. The meal was humungous and much more than Ichigo could manage, so he resorted to giving the remains to his daemon. Some of it he saved to try and tempt the two other daemons into conversation – neither of the taicho seemed to mind much; Kyoraku, in fact, looked amused at the effort. The otter stubbornly stayed well away from Ichigo, tucked into Ukitake's side, but the macaw picked at a piece of chicken now and then, seemingly grateful even if he didn't mention it. Cas scoffed down the rest of the rice and meat like a pig, and Ichigo rolled his eyes at the blatant lack of manners. His daemon twitched his tail happily.

Ichigo learned a lot about Soul Society that afternoon. He was careful about what he asked – there were bound to be military secrets that would get his head cut off – but Ukitake seemed happy enough to indulge him. Kyoraku added his input occasionally, but for the most part he sat back and drunk sake, listening with an alert ear. Ichigo quite liked that about him. Most of the taicho and fukutaicho he had met were quite… 'in your face' so to speak; it was nice to see a change. Ukitake was much chattier than his friend, but like Kyoraku had wisdom seldom in the other taicho.

Perhaps it was because of this that Ichigo accepted the 'substitute shinigami badge' without much question. He thought it looked rather cool and apparently it was helpful in many situations, so he agreed to keep it on him while in the human world. He pocketed it and the conversation moved on.

Cas, however, brought it up again once they'd parted a couple of hours later.

"I don't like it," he mumbled, as pessimistic as ever. They were on their way to find Inoue, Chad, and Ishida, and it took Ichigo a second to realise what his daemon was talking about.

"The badge?"

The buck snorted, shaking his head. There wasn't anybody else about, so there was no worry of accidentally clipping an arm or shoulder with his antlers. "He's not telling you something about it. And the fact that it's a 'tradition' is worrying enough – do you think that there have been others like you before?"

If there had, then what had happened to the shinigami who had given the human their powers? Had they been executed like Rukia almost was? What had happened to the human? And if substitute shinigami's were a benefit to Soul Society, why was it still illegal to 'create' them?

Was there another way of gaining shinigami powers as a human?

"Probably," hummed Ichigo. He fingered the badge in his pocket thoughtfully. Cas brought up a good point – Ukitake _wasn't_ telling him everything. But then again Ukitake had no reason to trust him, so was it surprising that he was being cautious? No, Ichigo didn't think so.

"Is that all you're going to say?" asked the daemon, irritated. He stomped on the ground.

Ichigo shrugged. There was no need to put his thoughts into words; Cas knew them anyway. "…Yeah."

"But –"

**Sometimes not saying anything is the best option**, said Zangetsu calmly, interrupting the rant of the daemon. **Drawing attention to the fact that you are suspicious may not be a wise move, especially since some members of Soul Society still view you with trepidation.**

Cas swore angrily but didn't argue his point. Ichigo thanked his zanpakuto and the conversation was dropped.

* * *

Hitting the cold floorboards woke him, his head and shoulder throbbing, his legs tangled in the sheets. The room was dark, lit only by a sliver of moonlight, but Ichigo couldn't see through the sweat and blood in his eyes. His heart was screaming, the rush a deafening roar in his ears, and something inside of him was tight, tugging him desperately out of his own mind.

_Where was his daemon? Where was Cas?_

He couldn't get up off of the floor, but the fear and the adrenaline and the pain told him all he needed to know. A voice – _the _voice – was cackling in his head, its dark hold around his throat, strangling him, soothing him. Zangetsu was silent and Cas was gone – _gone, gone, gone_ – and Ichigo sobbed into the wood, too tired to even lift his hand to hide his shame.

The door to his guest quarters in the Fourth Division slammed open. There were two small hands on his back instantly, keeping him both pressed to the floor and encouraging him to rise. Somebody was calling his name, asking him questions, but Ichigo couldn't hear them over the sudden relief in his chest as his daemon's voice filtered into his brain – vulgar and strong and shouting to the whole room:

"– Jesus Christ, I'm sorry, I just _fucking panicked_ – I didn't know what to – Ichigo, Christ, you _wanker_ –"

"Cas," he gasped, titling his head to find the hefty auburn blob. "Cas – what –?"

"Can you sit up, Kurosaki?" asked the other voice, and still Ichigo didn't recognise it. The hands on his back were still there, but their presence was lighter, hesitant. He had a feeling whoever they belonged to wasn't a Fourth Division member, and this suspicion was confirmed when a third and final voice reached his ears:

"Step back, dear. Give him some room."

Guinevere.

Tōshirō shuffled backwards on his knees: Ichigo let out a deep breath and willed his heart to stop hammering. Cas pottered around nervously, his hooves clacking ominously in the silence, and Ichigo took comfort in the sound. Eventually he lifted himself up, peeling the sheets away from his legs, and sat back against the metal frame of the bed he'd fallen out of.

"What happened?" he mumbled, though he could give it a pretty good guess.

Cas sighed and clambered down next to him, pressing their bodies together. Ichigo automatically laid a hand on his thick coat, scrunching his fingers through the fur. Tōshirō – and he could see now that it was the Tenth Division taicho, still as pale as he had been a few days before, wearing one of the Fourth's patient yukatas – sat back on his heels, looking somewhat shaken, Guinevere's small head by his chin, poked out of his clothing. He didn't answer the question, so Ichigo realised he probably didn't know.

"You were screaming," said Cas warily. "You wouldn't wake up. I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry for stretching our bond so far – fuck that hurt – but I needed to get someone to help. I wanted to find that healer taicho but I guess all of my noise woke shorty here instead – you gave me a fucking heart attack, sunshine, _honestly_."

He'd been dreaming about that sickly, hollow voice from the fight with Byakuya. His instincts told him not to mention it to Tōshirō, so he just nodded numbly and apologised.

"It's okay, Kurosaki," said Tōshirō in response. Ichigo couldn't see the colour of his eyes in the dark, but they were still and understanding, and he felt Cas relax beside him. "Matsumoto's been trying to get me out of bed for days, so there's no harm done. Are you alright?"

No, he thought. "Yes," he said. "It's just been a long week I guess."

The taicho nodded slowly. He looked tired too, Ichigo realised, as if his own dreams had been plagued by blood and terror. With Aizen's betrayal so fresh in their minds, there was no reason to believe that this wasn't the case. "If you cannot get back to sleep," said Tōshirō, rising. "Then the Fourth Division gardens aren't far from here – you are free to explore them." He paused for a moment, and his daemon's head twitched in such a way that suggested they were conversing mentally. "Or you could me company while I go and make a cup of tea?"

Yuzu always made tea if he was feeling down. Of course, this was an extreme case, but Ichigo figured it would work just the same: he nodded to the taicho and got to his feet, the buck at his side steadying him. Cas may not care much for others, but it couldn't be said that he didn't care for Ichigo.

There was a small kitchen just a few corridors from his room – there wasn't a table or any chairs, but there was a fridge, oven (with hobs), cupboards, and an L-shaped counter. Ichigo would have assumed it was for visitors in need or a quick snack or drink, but the security locks on each appliance door suggested otherwise. He was confused for a moment, questioning the point of such a kitchen, until the taicho punched in a few digits and one of the cupboards opened for him.

"It's for patients," said Tōshirō, pulling out a kettle. He swept around the room and opened a few more doors, knowing exactly where everything he needed was: teabags, mugs, spoons, sugar, and milk. "Long-term stays get boring after a while."

The kitchen was for independence. Ichigo had worked out that each division had its own kitchen, canteen, and well-equipped staff, but he'd never really given the Fourth much thought. He'd assumed it would be the same, but he supposed seriously ill shinigami couldn't mingle with the healthy officers, and their facilities would be separate. It was a nice touch, he mused, giving them their own space to do what they wished – plus the security code prevented accidents with patients who perhaps shouldn't be in proximity to the more dangerous aspects of a kitchen.

Tōshirō plugged in the kettle and filled it with water. "How do you take your tea, Kurosaki?" he asked, switching it on.

Ichigo smiled at the absurdity of the scene and went over to help. Having tea at two o'clock in the morning with one of the taichos of the place he'd invaded wasn't something he'd imagine himself doing. Tōshirō busied himself with the milk next to him, and Ichigo was struck by just how short and fragile the taicho was.

His highly venomous black mamba daemon made up for the innocent appearance though. Guinevere, watching the tea-making process with a sharp eye, didn't seem particularly dangerous, but Ichigo had done his research since meeting her the first time. Still, she looked happy as she revealed herself from under Tōshirō's yukata, sliding down his front to taste the tea at a closer distance. She was probably as long as Ichigo had guessed – about two metres – and he couldn't help but notice that he couldn't see the other end of her.

"How do you carry her around?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence the whistle of the kettle had left them in.

Tōshirō went and put the milk back into the fridge before answering. "She stays coiled around my body most of the time," he explained, handing Ichigo one of the mugs. "I fear people will tread on her."

"Isn't that uncomfortable?" He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have the constant weight of a snake wrapped around his chest.

"I'm used to it," shrugged the taicho. "Isn't it inconvenient to have such a large daemon?"

Ichigo sipped his tea. "Point," he mumbled. "Are there any biscuits in here?"

Tōshirō indicated towards one of the top cupboards. "Two-five-three-two-two-four," he said, since it was clear he probably couldn't reach. Ichigo tapped in the code and pulled out a packet of chocolate digestives with a start of surprise.

Soul Society kept getting stranger and stranger.

"Here Cas," he said, waving a digestive at his daemon's nose. "You want one Tōshirō?"

"Hitsugaya-taicho," the other corrected, rolling his eyes. "And no thank you."

Ichigo's face rose in amusement. "Huh. Alright. Gwen?"

Tōshirō grumbled something at that, burying his words behind his mug, but Ichigo had a feeling he wasn't miffed at somebody talking directly to his daemon. The substitute lifted an eyebrow, waggling the biscuit packet at the black mamba, and was rewarded with a firm, "Please call me Guinevere."

Behind them, Cas started to choke on his digestive.

"My mistake," said Ichigo, silently willing his daemon to shut up. "Biscuit?"

"You eat them, child," said the snake. She lifted herself up from the counter, but instead of disappearing back under Tōshirō's clothes she looped around her partner's neck once, resting her head on his shoulder. "I am content without one."

::Mother-hen:: Cas coughed across their mental link.

_With an attitude_, Ichigo thought, grinning. _I can't see why Tōshirō doesn't like that part of his personality though._

::Really? You really can't? Dimwit, just look at him – it's fucking obvious::

Ichigo tuned back into the real world, observing the taicho as he started putting everything away. He couldn't see what Cas was talking about – at least, until Tōshirō bid him goodnight, seemed to hesitate at the door, and then disappeared around the corner with a scowl.

"_Oh_."

"Annnnd he gets it," Cas teased, walking forward and rounding Ichigo out of the room. "See? Look, even I'm doing it now. Fucking twit."

With a sigh, Ichigo let himself be pushed back down the corridor.

It must be difficult to be a taicho.

* * *

"Fuck that guy's insane," Ichigo grumbled, slowing down from his frantic run. "Why won't he leave me alone?"

Kenpachi Zaraki had been chasing them for the last hour, demanding that they have a rematch. While Ichigo was feeling much better physically, he didn't think he'd ever want to fight that man again.

Cas laughed. "I think it's 'cause he likes you. His daemon does, anyway."

Kenpachi's daemon was unsettled and nameless, which Ichigo thought was a shame. He hadn't realised at first though (he had been more concerned about keeping his head on his shoulders at the time), because the taicho's daemon mainly stayed in one form, attached to his leg in the same fashion as how his pink haired fukutaicho remained attached to his shoulder.

It was a koala.

(It had been Ichigo's full blown laughter at this that had caused the manic taicho to start chasing him).

"Well they can stop liking me," Ichigo grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm not some mouse for him to –"

"Kurosaki-kun!"

They turned. Inoue was running towards them, out of breath. Ichigo hoped Kenpachi hadn't been chasing her too, in the hopes that she'd lead him to his goal.

"Have you seen Kuchiki-san?" asked the human, doubled over and gasping. "I can't find her anywhere. We're leaving soon and I wanted to…"

She trailed off, looking lost. Ichigo wracked his brain for all of the places that Rukia might be; the Sixth Division, the Thirteenth Division, the Kuchiki compound… "Where have you looked?" he asked.

Inoue perked up. "All of the divisions – or the ones I thought she'd visit. I was going to ask Abarai-kun but I think he's with his taicho and I didn't want to interrupt…" Her sentence trailed off again.

"Maybe she's not in the Seireitei?" Ichigo said, motioning for her to follow. "Come on."

::Shiba compound?:: suggested Cas, sprinting in front of them. ::Can't think of anywhere else that's not Seireitei…::

"Cas you're a _genius_."

Inoue looked between them in confusion, clearly not quite used to their silent conversations. Ichigo didn't bother to explain; he just urged his daemon to lead the way and hoped that she would catch on.

They arrived fairly quickly, though they did almost get dragged into drinking with Rangiku and some of her friends on the way, and sure enough, Rukia was standing outside the front of the Shiba home, talking with Kukaku and Ganju. They approached, Ichigo leading the way.

"Heya," he greeted, bowing very slightly to the two Shibas. "We've been looking for you."

Rukia looked sad, but her eyes brightened when she saw them. "My apologies, I didn't mean to cause any worry," she said, smiling.

"It's alright!" chimed Inoue, bouncing over happily. "I got a great tour of Seireitei while I was looking; it was fun!"

"You done here?" Ichigo asked. "The gate to the human world will be opening soon – are you ready?"

The young Kuchiki blinked. "I'm… going to stay here, actually."

For a second Ichigo thought she meant the Shiba compound, and apparently Kukaku had the same worry for her eyebrows rose up straight into her hairline. Cas snickered at the sight, drawing the Shiba's eyes to him instead.

"In Soul Society," Rukia added, but by that point Ichigo was more focused on the way Kukaku was staring at his daemon; forlornly, as if he reminded her of someone. This didn't surprise Ichigo; she looked at him with the same expression from time to time.

He didn't know what it meant though, and he wanted to find out.

But not today. One day, when he wasn't pressured for time, and there wasn't a betrayal hanging over their heads; the prospect of war whispering in the back of their minds.

He rubbed the substitute badge in his pocket.

There were lots of questions that needed to be asked, after all.

* * *

**End Notes:** This may be the beginning of a series (if I feel like writing more).

Whether subsequent stories remain gen or are Ichigo/Tōshirō has yet to be decided. Depending on what I write, I guess they might be a mix of both.

You can think of this story as the introduction to daemons – hence why it's so boring. Sorry about that.

(Woops, should I be writing TSOF? Why yes, yes I should).


End file.
